


System_cr4sh

by ConsultingStag



Series: 5y5t3m_t4sk_pr10r1ty01 [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor's software gets fucked, Connor's tactile sensitivity modules get fucked, Fingering, Hand Kink, Hand porn, M/M, bad Hank that's evidence, correct use of the evidence room, fingering of guns, like fingering of fingers? i don't even know what tags to use, sensitivity play, unequipped Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingStag/pseuds/ConsultingStag
Summary: “You know, Connor, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like.” Hank’s tone was calm, as if he wasn’t stroking a gun in an obscene manner.“About what, Lieutenant?” Connor tried to look Hank in the eyes when he spoke but his camera returned unbidden to the indecent display.Software_instability_detected“About what it would be like if you had a dick. What it would be like to stroke your erection. What faces you would make. But then I realized that I can’t imagine you making sweeter sounds than when I play with your fingers. The way you moan and writhe when I take my time.”aka the story where Hank abuses Connor's tactile sensitivity modules so bad he gotta rebootSet after System_err0r and System_0verl0ad but can be read as a standalone





	System_cr4sh

**Author's Note:**

> Bless our lovely Sunjinjo for hunting down mistakes and errors <3

**Counter_03Months29Days15Hours43Minutes41Seconds**

**Counter_02Months18Days02Hours08Minutes36Seconds**

 

The day had been a relatively calm one. No emergencies. No crime scenes to investigate. Just paperwork.

An ownerless sports bag had been found at a bus stop and a concerned civilian had called, worried it might contain a bomb. The bomb squad had been mobilised and brought to the station. Two hours had passed before they had declared the bag safe and without explosives.

It had instead been filled with guns of varying models. Three colts. A 1900, M1905 and a 1903 Pocket Hammer. A 40 Glock G27 G4, 9MM Glock G19 G3. A 9MM S&W and 45ACP S&W Shield. 22LR Henry Golden Boy. A 22LR Ruger. And ten more models.

All fully functioning and with traces of gunpowder in the barrels, showing they had been used though they had not yet been connected with any crime.

“Probably someone from Texas taking a holiday here,” had been Hank’s unhelpful opinion. Connor had told him he shouldn’t be so prejudiced. Hank had told him that he would be getting Connor an idiot’s guide book on jokes for Christmas.

So now they were filling out forms for every gun that had been found in the bag as well as the bag itself.

Hank stood up with a muttered curse and stretched with a groan before looking over to Connor expectantly.

Connor cocked his head in question, glancing between Hank and the form he was currently filling out.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Come on, get your ass up, Connor.”

“I am in the middle of work but should be finished in about an hour and a half.”

“No shit. But I need a goddamn change of scenery and away from those things,” He pointed to the forms with a mildly disgusted expression, “Or I swear I’ll be tempted to stab someone with my mug.”

“That would be unlikely to work, Lieutenant,” Connor frowned, glancing at the mug to calculate how much force would be necessary to achieve such an effect.

“Remind me that I need to watch Riddick with you. Now get up.”

**_Memo_added_ **

Connor sighed and saved his work progress.

“Very well, what did you have in mind?”

“I want to check out the evidence we got instead of writing about the shit.”

Connor refrained from pointing out that they had already seen all the evidence and stood up instead to walk beside Hank down the brightly lit corridor to where the archives were located.

They met Bob on the way, who greeted them with a curt nod and grunt that could have been a hello, but didn’t stop to chat with them.

Connor’s lip twitched when Hank typed in his password, unchanged even after Connor had used it without authorization once.

The door made of reinforced glass slid open and they entered. The walls were lined with shelves, the one they were looking for in the left corner, filled with guns that were placed neatly in a row next to each other.

Hank strode forward and picked the 22LR Ruger, a Blackhawk model, muscles shifting under his shirt as he stretched to reach it on the high shelf, before he went to the small table at the side of the room. The chair screeched noisily as he pulled it forward.

Following Hank’s lead, Connor also took a gun, the M1905 Colt, and joined Hank at the table.

There was no need for gloves anymore, all the evidence having already been scanned by a specially designed device that made 3D models of the items, including the inner workings and fingerprints.

Connor placed the gun in front of him, wondering what to do now. There weren’t any new discoveries to make or leads to find.

He looked over to Hank, who was turning the Ruger in his hand, gaze focused.

The metal frame was black and the grip made of polished wood, colour reminiscent of mahogany but Connor was uncertain what type of wood it was.

Calloused fingers slid over the long and slim barrel of the gun, inspecting the muzzle and letting a forefinger run over the muzzle of the gun. His movements were precise and sure, showing that Hank knew how to handle a gun and, from what Connor knew, also a good shot.

The cylinder snapped open, revealing the empty chambers within. His grip on the butt of the Ruger changed and Connor could see the tendons flex beneath the skin. A fingertip traced over the opened cylinder, perhaps feeling for scratches, Connor was uncertain.

He laid the gun aside after inspecting the hammer and grabbed the one Connor had gotten, not commenting on Connor observing him.

**_Software_instability_detected_ **

The motions were repeated, fingers sliding over the barrel slowly, taking their time to trace the surface before a finger ran around the muzzle and Connor shifted a bit on his chair.

Connor watched as Hank handled the gun, movements as he did so small and unhurried and Connor found himself drawn in, camera tracking every slide and trace and trail of nimble fingers, that betrayed no frequent consumption of alcohol. Focused on every flex and shift of tendons and the way the sleeve would slip to reveal a bit more of the wrist when he opened the cylinder.

**_Thirium_pump_error_detected_ **

Connor shifted again, trying to find a comfortable sitting position as his system hummed with the need to move.

The nagging suspicion that Hank was indeed not actually trying to inspect the guns or new clues was confirmed when he used thumb and forefinger to slide along the barrel at a steady pace, stopping at the rim of the muzzle, middle, ring and pinkie finger curling around the barrel as the thumb began to circle the opening. Blue eyes lifted from what he was doing to glance at Connor, grinning when he took in the way Connor watched his every move.

**_Motoric_reflexes_error_detected_ **

**_Processing…_ **

**_Recalibration_advised_ **

Connor’s fingers clenched around the fabric of his uniform as Hank continued to caress the tip of the gun, mouth opening to tell Hank to stop or to please continue. Connor wasn’t sure.

“You know, Connor, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like.” Hank’s tone was calm, as if he wasn’t stroking a gun in an obscene manner.

“About what, Lieutenant?” Connor tried to look Hank in the eyes when he spoke but his camera returned unbidden to the indecent display.

**_Software_instability_detected_ **

“About what it would be like if you had a dick.”

At that Connor did look up, uncertain where this conversation was headed. Did Hank want him to be equipped after all? But they had had intercourse with him like this and Hank had appeared more than pleased. He frowned, LED blinking yellow, blue.

“What it would be like to stroke your erection. What faces you would make.”

Suddenly, a foot landed between his legs – shoeless, though Connor had not noticed Hank toeing them off –, pushing against his crotch insistently and Connor made a low sound at the pressure. His legs splayed open before he had decided to do so and the foot began to move in small, circular motions against him, matching the rhythm of Hank’s fingers as they continued to trace and swirl patterns into the dark metal of the firearm.

**_Processor_speed_decrease_ **

**_Processing…._ **

**_Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks_ **

“But then I realized that I can’t imagine you making sweeter sounds than when I play with your fingers. The way you moan and writhe when I take my time.”

The pressure of Hank’s foot increased momentarily and Connor whined and rocked into the touch, chair screeching noisily at the sudden movement. Connor’s hand closed around the edge of the chair in a tight grip, mouth hanging open with the forgotten things he had planned to say.

**_Tactile_sensitivity_error_detected_ **

First and foremost, that this was a horrible idea. They were in public, anyone who came into the archives would have a clear view of them. But the thought had gone and vanished along with Connor’s processor speed.

“I bet I could let you fuck me with those nimble fingers of yours and you would be able to short-circuit from that alone.”

A shiver wracked his body at the thought and Connor leaned forward, sound stuck in his throat as the pressure against his crotch in- and decreased in a hypnotic pattern. A hand came to rest on the table for support as his eyes fluttered closed, images flickering through his mind. Hank on top of him and Connor’s fingers buried deep inside him, trying to make Hank climax before he lost control over his motoric reflexes.

A groan from the other side of the table caught his attention and Connor’s eyes fluttered open, camera focusing on Hank whose pupils were blown wide and colour high on his cheeks. Hank licked his lips, gaze intent and dark.

“Jesus fuck, you should see yourself, Connor.” His voice was low and raspy and more whispered than spoken.

The gun clattered noisily on the table as Hank dropped it to grab Connor’s hand. Connor’s body jerked at the contact, his already slow RAM overwhelmed by the additional input.

**_Tactile_sensitivity_error_detected_ **

**_Motoric_reflexes_error_detected_ **

**_Processing…_ **

**_Recalibration_advised_ **

A moan worked its way from Connor’s vocal modules as Hank began to rub up and down his forefinger with thumb and index, letting the blunt nail of his thumb drag against Connor’s artificial skin on the way down.

“Turn those sensitivity settings up for me, gorgeous,” he breathed and _oh_ , how Connor wanted to.

**_Software_instability_detected_ **

“Hank, this is –,” a shudder stopped him momentarily as Hank added his pinkie to stroke across his palm with every stroke. “This is a bad idea.”

“But it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can see how bad you want to.”

And Connor did. He wanted it so bad the command to turn up the sensitivity settings of his sensors was already there, waiting to be sent.

The thumb swirled around his fingertip, catching on his nail every now and then as Hank leaned forward, dragging Connor’s fingertip from his chin to the swell of his lower lip, where he came to a halt and Connor whined.

**_Vocal_module_error_detected_ **

**_Processing…_ **

**_Recalibration_advised_ **

A tongue came out to lick over the tip of his finger slowly, Hank’s gaze resting on him expectantly and that did it.

**_Temperature_sensitivity_settings_changed_successfully_ **

**_Tactile_sensitivity_settings_changed_successfully_ **

“Hank, please –“There was a hitch in his voice as his vocal modules recalibrated.

Hank groaned as he closed his mouth around Connor’s finger and Connor keened at the onslaught of information and sensations. The wet heat alone almost enough to overload his RAM.

**_Processor_speed_decrease_ **

**_Processing…._ **

**_Shutting_down_all_tasks_except_primary_ **

His hips jerked, sending him into the pressure of Hank’s foot and his back arched as his system tried to struggle through the wave of input.

A tongue swirled around his finger and he felt teeth as Hank took him deeper, tongue lapping at the skin where it connected his index with his middle finger. Hank sucked a bit before pulling out Connor’s finger, teeth grazing knuckles and tongue toying with his fingertip, then taking him deeper again.

Connor bend forward, free hand coming to clutch at the table top, scrambling for something to hold onto until he grasped Hank’s forearm, almost knocking one of the guns from the table in the process.

Hank added another finger to join the first, groaning as he sucked on them and twisted his tongue between them. The scratch of Hank’s beard against his skin registered as spikes in the input. It was all too much in its intensity.

**_Tactile_sensitivity_error_detected_ **

Connor moaned Hank’s name, shivers running down his spine as Hank took him apart. He could feel himself running hot, his system sending error messages and advising an immediate cooldown.

Connor twisted in his seat, seeking more of the friction Hank’s foot offered while at the same time wanting to get away from the stimulus.

The noises Hank made vibrated through his components and Connor watched in intoxication as his fingers disappeared and reappeared into Hank’s mouth, skin glistening with spit. A broken sound escaped his lips at the sight before he had to turn his gaze away and buried his face into the crook of his elbow.

**_Vocal_module_error_detected_ **

**_Processing…_ **

**_Recalibration_advised_ **

He was dimly aware that the lights were flickering or maybe it was his camera malfunctioning, Connor wasn’t sure and not capable of pulling up the log to check.

Suddenly, the arm he was clutching moved and there was a hand on his chin, urging him to lift his face. Connor obliged, groaning when the visuals registered.

Hank’s face was flushed, gaze hooded as his eyes slid partly shut and dark.

**_Audio_module_error_detected_ **

There was a buzzing in his ears and his camera defocused, turning Hank into a blurry form as Connor tried his best to keep his head lifted.

**_RAM_temperature_level_error_detected_ **

**_Processing…_ **

**_Cooldown_advised_ **

Connor groaned and Hank hummed around his fingers as he watched Connor come undone. The hand on his face moved, fingers grazing over his lips and then two digits were pushing against his parted lips, slipping inside easily, dragging over his tongue and to the back of his mouth.

Metal, potassium nitrate, charcoal, sulphur.

They moved in an unsteady rhythm, rubbing over his tongue, twisting around it and Connor’s moan was broken and muffled by them. He could feel Hank’s answering groan vibrate against his fingers and that was it. His vision whited out then faded to black and his audio feed and sensory input cut off momentarily as his RAM was overwhelmed and overheated.

Connor blinked rapidly as he came to, half lying on the table, limbs still feeling unsteady and hard to control.

“Fuck, Connor.” Hank muttered, voice gravelly and filled with naked want.

Connor stared at where Hank’s crotch was hidden by the table, ready to relieve Hank as soon as his motoric reflexes were under control. Hank cursed and shook his head.

“Not here, fuck, you caused one of those damn smart lamps to blow. Someone from tech will be down here sooner or later.”

Connor frowned and gazed at the ceiling were one of the lamps was dark, another flickering unsteadily.

Connor opened his mouth but only a soft sound came out that caused Hank to curse again, dragging Connor into a quick slide of tongues before standing up to put the guns back. Connor now had an unobstructed view of Hank’s pants, erection clearly straining against the material.

He waited until Hank was looking at him and licked his lips in a way he hoped looked seductive as he gazed at Hank’s crotch. Hank made a low noise and walked over, coming to stand in front of Connor.

“Bathroom. Now,” Hank growled and Connor smiled crookedly as Hank hauled him up, cursing more when Connor just sagged against him, leg components refusing to cooperate.

“Fucking hell, Connor, you’re worse than me after an orgasm. Utterly useless.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *coughs*  
> well  
> that was actually supposed to be the last chapter for Now_playing_take_my_breath_away.mp3 but it kind of took some weird turns along the way and became this...thing 
> 
> Connor's a thirsty boy, lemme give you an awful haiku to illustrate
> 
> touch, overload me  
> set all my systems ablaze  
> make me come undone
> 
> hope you enjoyed the porn that wasn't planned I guess  
> Leave a kudo, comment or complaint down below or shout out my mistakes <3
> 
> Edit:  
> guys, check out Sunjinjo's poem "RK800 / Connor" it's sooo well written I'm all asdhjkf https://www.deviantart.com/sunjinjo/art/RK800-Connor-751119346


End file.
